“Nǐ de húntún lái le.” Yang RunYu set the steaming hot bowl of wonton soup on her customer’s table.

“Xiè xie.”

RunYu smiled politely at the butchered attempt of an American trying to speak Chinese. She turned and walked back into the kitchen.

RunYu had gotten used to the loud clutter of the kitchen. She had to. It was her restaurant, after all.

“Zhège pánzi zuò hǎole. Nǐ kěyǐ bǎ tā dài dào 19 hào zhuō.” The chef pushed a plate of jiǎozi RunYu’s way. She grabbed it.

Stolen story; please report.

As RunYu went back out into the restaurant, she checked the time on the clock. 2:00 PM. She set the plate down at table 19. Her mind went back to earlier this morning. Yes, today was the day. She went back into the kitchen, into the storage room, and emerged behind the restaurant. She saw the last AGB stop in the city.

There was a train headed towards it, and, just as it entered the stop, it started to disappear. It happened every time somebody with big dreams tried to leave the city. It was pretty fitting. This street, all of Chinatown, even, was starting to disappear.

RunYu’s phone buzzed. It was Jaclyn.

HEY, CAN U TALK RIGHT NOW? SOMETHING CRAZY JUST HAPPENED.

Jaclyn Glaudini-Zimmerman. She always had big dreams, ones of being a star, on TV, Broadway, practically anything to let her gain fame. RunYu responded:

OF COURSE! COME DOWN NOW FOR SOME NOODLE SOUP?